


Mending

by Cardinal_Daughter



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Mutual Pining, One-Sided Attraction, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-09-22 06:23:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17054813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cardinal_Daughter/pseuds/Cardinal_Daughter
Summary: “I wish I could mend this,” she whispers gently, wistfully, “I wish I was strong enough to just whisper a few words and your heart wouldn’t be broken anymore.”





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> I started this before episodes 44/45 so there is no mention of things that happened in those episodes. 
> 
> No beta; apologies for any mistakes. 
> 
> I’m really in a pickle you guys; I can’t figure out who I ship. It literally changes episode to episode and I am in hell.

**Mending**

_Part One_

 

It comes to a head in the most unexpected way. The Mighty Nein are back in Zedash and enjoying a long-needed and well-earned reprieve. Drinking, shopping, and sleeping are all that’s on the agenda for their three week stay, but of course, the opportunity to earn some coin presents itself, and the Mighty Nein are hard-pressed to say no to a pocket full of gold.

The mission is a simple one: infiltrate a masquerade ball and spy on a young man. Their contact believes the target in question is up to something shady, and wants to ensure the man he is marrying his daughter to is not involved in something illegal or dangerous.

It’s so easy it’s ridiculous. So they agree.

Even easier is deciding on who will attend the party- they all are going in their own way, but not all of them will be able to make their way into the soirée as a designated guest. So Beau, Caduceus, and Fjord disguise themselves and take up roles as servants, listening for any hint of underhanded dealings and gathering intel from the staff. Nott and Yasha keep watch on the outside for any foul play. And Jester and Caleb enter the room disguised as a young married couple and make their way around the room, Jester’s jovial nature and Caleb’s training making them the perfect picture of social grace and charm.

Jester has turned her skin a shade similar to Beau’s, and has twisted her now black hair into an elaborate chignon, small tendrils of curls framing her freckled face. Her dress is a rose-petal pink, flowing and elegant with a lace bodice and billowing skirt that swishes with every carefully placed step. Her face is further obscured by a darker pink mask with peacock feathers- a tribute to Molly, she’d said.

Caleb looks much like himself, but clean shaven, magically darkened hair tied back, and dressed in well-to-do attire that suggests an upbringing of studying with private tudors, chasing young ladies, and drinking expensive wines. His own mask is simple and dark, nothing too alluring to bring attention to himself, but serves its purpose.

Jester holds his arm and moves with an elegance that reminds Caleb of the Ruby of the Sea. The Ruby had dazzled everyone and it seems Jester emulates her now, her voice softer and less giggly, but more subdued as she tilts her head coyly and hugs Caleb’s arm as she speaks to a fellow party-goer.

While she plays the part of the charming socialite, Caleb looks around for the gentleman they’ve been hired to spy on. So far he cannot see him and thinks splitting up might be a wise course of action in an effort to find the man. So Caleb presses a hand to the small of her back and whispers that he’ll return in a bit with wine. Jester kisses her finger then touches his nose and says she’ll miss him while he’s gone.

Caleb smiles, surprised that it isn’t even remotely forced, and feels his cheeks burn as he turns away from her. She’s always a force to be reckoned with but here she is thriving, and she knows just how to fluster people, flip them on their head and leave them stunned to get what she wants from them. She’s doing that now, charming some poor young noble who seems utterly smitten with her. She laughs sweetly and accepts the gentleman’s offer to dance.

Caleb sips at a glass of wine slowly, keeping an eye out for their target. Their contact had purchased the Costume his future son-in-law was wearing, and so Caleb knew exactly who to look for. He spots the target after a while, seated next to another man, this one an older, plump fellow who looks every inch salacious and unsavory, despite how well dressed he is. Carefully Caleb reaches into his coat pocket and twists the wire within. He pulls it out, hidden by an embroidered handkerchief and as he fakes a sneeze whispers, “I found him. To my left with the large man.”

Jester doesn’t respond but she does catch his eye and wink. He nods to her and moves closer to the two men, sipping on his wine as he inspects a rather impressive piece of art. The men are speaking softly but pleasantly, and though Caleb cannot hear everything, he hears a few key phrases that confirms their contact’s suspicions. He takes one last small sip before turning and placing the glass on a passing tray. Then he approaches Jester and her partner and with a suave smile asks if he can cut in for a dance with his wife. The glittering ruby on Jester’s finger catches the light brilliantly as she blows a kiss to the flustered man before turning and wrapping her arms around Caleb. He suspects it wasn’t just a trick of the light, and he can’t help but smile softly at her as he easily maneuvers her into a waltz.

“So is he a bad guy or not?”

“I’m afraid he is.”

Jester pouts, and Caleb’s eyes are instantly drawn to her lips, painted a pretty pink to match her dress.

“Damn. I was hoping he wouldn’t be a piece of shit. That guy’s daughter is going to be sad now.”

Caleb adjusts so they are pressed closer, offering a comforting half-hug as best he can. “We are protecting her,” Caleb murmurs, and to anyone else it would seem as if he were sharing a sweet moment with his wife. “Take comfort that she will find someone else who will not endanger her with illegal doings.”

“I guess,” she laments with a sigh, and Caleb can’t help but glance over at the young man, and a small part of him wants to pommel the idiot for not only ultimately breaking his betrothed’s heart, but for upsetting Jester now.

They finish the dance and Jester convinces him to indulge her one more for good measure. “We already got what we came for,” she reasons, “We may as well enjoy ourselves!”

Caleb is hard pressed to find enjoyment in much, but he equally finds it nearly impossible to say no to Jester. Even when she doesn’t look like herself, her wide eyes and pouty lips leave him helpless, so he pulls her close, using the fact that they are supposed to be married as his excuse, and they dance again. She’s warm in his embrace, and she smells sweet, like honeysuckle, and he has to fight down the urge to bury his nose in her hair and breathe deeply.

Finally Caleb convinces her to leave the floor, and they move to the refreshments to grab more wine. Caleb is keeping an eye on their target; he’s now speaking to another man who is tall and slim with a sinister glaze to his eye- a man that had been described to them as a ‘no good, sleazy, and wicked man’ and Caleb fears the boy is getting too far in over his head.

He turns to make such a remark to Jester when out of the corner of his eye Caleb catches sight of a man he would recognize anywhere. On instinct, his body seizes instantly, phantom pains of a whip slashing across his back springing to life in his mind as his hands grow hot with the memory of flame surging forth. His vision goes red and his lungs seem to have constricted around each other and refuse to expand. He can hear the screams of his parents, the screams of Astrid and Eodwulf as they’re punished for not meeting Trent’s expectations. He can recall his own screams of agony in the back of his mind as he feels himself breaking to pieces all over again, and everything is hot and burning and-

And then he feels a hard slap against his cheek and suddenly he’s standing in a dark room with someone standing in front of him.

“Caleb?” Jester asks, worry evident in her voice. “I didn’t want to slap you but you weren’t responding and I was getting scared.” She’s wringing her hands together nervously and watching him with eagle-sharp eyes.

Blinking slowly, Caleb rubs the sore spot on his cheek, focusing on the pain that keeps him anchored to the present. He glances around, the darkness obscuring his vision, but he can smell the telling scent of ink and parchment; knows they are in a library.

Wordlessly, he uses his other hand to produce four globules of light, and they illuminate everything better. Jester’s has discarded her mask and he notices absently that his is gone as well. As he tries to regain his senses, he watches her, sees where her magically dulled teeth are worrying her bottom lip.

“I’m sorry, Blueberry,” he murmurs after several long moments, weakly shaking his head and rubbing his temple, “I don’t know what came over me.”

“Yes you do,” Jester says matter-of-fact. “You saw that man, the one who talked to Yasha and Beau when we were here a while back and you just went... blank.” Her eyes narrow. “You know him, don’t you?”

It isn’t a question; it’s an accusation.

“We can talk later,” Caleb murmurs as he tries to step away. “We have a job to finish.”

Jester’s hand catches his wrist. The hold isn’t hard, but Caleb knows Jester’s strength. He’s not going anywhere.

“I sent a Message to Beau. I told her what you told me and said we were going to disappear for a bit to snoop for books. The others will pick up anything we miss while we’re gone.” She places her hands lightly on his shoulders, waiting a moment to see if he’ll shrug her off. When he doesn’t, she lightly rubs his arms. “It’s okay. We’re safe here.”

But the thing is, Caleb thinks, he isn’t safe here. He’s far closer to Trent Ikithon than he wants to be (though being on the same continent is too close, in his opinion) and he’s already disassociated in front of Jester, who is too curious for her own good on a good day, and he feels like he’s going to throw up or pass out or both and he isn’t sure what time it is at the moment and he can’t quite recall which way is North-

“Caleb,” Jester says softly but sternly, her hands sliding down his arms to take his hands in hers. His eyes meet hers but they are glazedover and unfocused, tears welling at the edges, and with a sigh Jester gently pulls him to her and whispers a small incantation. In an instant they’re back in Jester’s room at the Pillow Trove. Her disguise is gone though the pink dress remains, looking almost purple against her skin in the faint candlelight.

She moves Caleb to the bed and pushes so he sits. He obeys absently, barely registering the way Jester kneels down between his legs and rests her hands on his cheeks. Looking at him through long lashes she whispers, “We are at the Pillow Trove, Caleb. We are not in the same building as that man anymore. He doesn’t know where you are. You are safe now. He can’t hurt you, Caleb.”

At that, Caleb laughs, the sound dry and desperate and broken.

“He’s already hurt me, Jester.”

She frowns at that. “Then what can I do to make it better?”

Nothing, Caleb thinks. Then says it aloud, because he will not lie to Jester. He’s lying by omission, certainly, but he doesn’t think he can look her in the face and tell her a complete untruth; not if she asks him something directly. He respects her too much for that. Damn his heart, he cares too much for her to find it easy to lie to her.

Slowly, Caleb moves one hand from where they’re clinging to the bedsheets and taps his head. “You can’t heal this wound, I’m afraid. The damage is far too engrained; far too deep.” He sighs and looks away. “And it’s what I deserve.”

He can feel her glaring at him as she drops her hands to her hips. “You don’t deserve it, Caleb,” she huffs, elongating his name in that way he finds adorable, “But I can’t help you if you won’t talk to me. I can’t make you talk-“ she pauses at a sudden thought and Caleb winces, knowing where her mind has gone. “-Well actually I can, but I wouldn’t do that; but still. If you don’t talk about what makes you sad it’ll just fester in your head like a really gross sore and it won’t ever get better.”

Caleb tenses as she speaks, fearful for a moment that she might cast her Zone of Truth spell on him anyway, despite her assurance that she won’t. He knows he can fight it, can resist it; but then a small part of him wishes she would cast it, so that he has no choice but to tell her everything.

He wants to tell her; he has for some time now- ever since he saw her walk out of that cage in the Iron Shepherd’s hold, he’s wanted to tell her. But he knows that he will not be able to bear the look of disgust, of horror and disappointment that will inevitably cross her face. He can’t have her look at him like that. But even still, he wants her to know. Unlike Beau and Nott, who he told mostly out of necessity, he wants to tell Jester. Needs her to know exactly who he is, if only because then maybe she won’t look at him that way with those stunning eyes of hers.

But there’s the hope that, even after knowing the truth, her gaze won’t change.

 _I am a fool,_ he tells himself, not for the first time.

It’s on the tip of his tongue to tell her to cast the spell. He’s so close, so very nearly willing to ask her to just do it and put him out of his misery. He wants to step out, to meet her in the light she inhabits, but every time he thinks he might be ready, he finds one hundred reasons to stay in the shadows. But she tugs at him nonetheless, and after tonight, after knowing that Trent still has the power to render him completely helpless- has the power to make him feel like that lost and helpless boy who had been so easy to corrupt- he thinks maybe Jester is right.

Trent has festered in his brain for years. Caleb thinks maybe he should let Jester lance the wound.

It’s a calculated risk. And though Caleb knows Jester should hate him after he reveals his secret, he also innately knows that she won’t. After their conversation in Darktow, he’s convinced- though he doesn’t know why or how he knows that- that she won’t hate him. Though how anyone can look at him without disgust, he has no idea, but right now he knows that it doesn’t matter. What matters is his friend is sitting patiently at his feet, eager and willing to help him.

And she is his friend, Caleb realizes. She’s the bright eyed and goofy girl who makes him smile, who makes him laugh even when he doesn’t want to. She’s the girl who doesn’t take shit from anyone, who is loud and unapologetic and beautiful, and who inspires him to think that maybe someday, he can move past this. Maybe he can step into the light, and maybe she’ll be there waiting for him.

Caleb meets her gaze, and asks her to cast Zone of Truth on him.

His heart swells when she falters; asks him if he’s certain. For all that she doesn’t believe in personal space and is nosy and gets into all sorts of trouble, she recognizes that this is something that doesn’t come easy for Caleb, and she asks four times if he’s sure before he takes her face in his hands and all but begs her to do it before he loses his nerve.

“Okay,” Jester whispers with a nod. “You don’t have to answer a question, but if you do you won’t be able to lie, okay?”

Caleb nods solemnly. “Ja. Okay.”

Jester takes a breath and releases the spell. Caleb feels it wash over him but doesn’t resist, and he can practically feel Jester’s relief that he allows the spell to settle over him.

Once it’s done, Jester moves onto the bed, back propped against the wall. She tugs at Caleb until he joins her, and then she entwines their fingers together and asks in a whisper, “Who is that man and why did he scare you so badly?”

Caleb presses the back of his head to the wall, takes a deep breath, shuts his eyes, and speaks.

He tells her everything; it’s so similar to when he told Beau and Nott, the pouring out of everything that happened, the pain of hearing it all out loud. Of knowing that after this, he may have to leave, if he’s wrong and Jester recoils from him or threatens to tell anyone else.

But he doesn’t stop speaking. He tells her everything; tells her more than he told Nott and Beau. He speaks of Astrid, knowing Jester has a particular interest in her after their previous conversations. Of how he loved her. Of how he has no idea what became of her and that haunts him almost as much as his parents. Almost.

He tells her how he’s a murderer, and he can’t look her in the eye at all.

The spell ends halfway through his tale, but he neither stops to ask her to cast it again, nor does she pause him to do so. But they both know every word after is the truth, and when he finishes he’s breathless and blind from tears and his heart feels as if it might burst out of his chest it is beating so rapidly and so hard.

And Jester-

Jester is silent.

Caleb doesn’t know what to do with Jester’s silence. He knows he can handle a barrage of screams and insults and anger. But silence is unlike the tiefling, and he feels himself mentally making plans to escape when she finally does speak.

“That’s why you said that thing, that day in Darktow,” she whispers, “About how only some of us are murderers. You think that’s what you are.”

“I am a murderer,” Caleb insists.

“I mean, technically,” Jester agrees with the same ease one might agree that the weather is pleasant. “But you clearly regret it. I don’t think that makes you so much a murderer as it makes you someone who did something really bad and wishes he could take it back.”

“I do not see how that is different.”

“We’ve killed a lot of people,” Jester says, “But none of us enjoy it. We don’t do it because it’s fun to take a life. We do it because a lot of the time it’s us or them. You don’t enjoy killing. You don’t think it’s fun. Fjord told me you got all funny again after you threw that fireball at Avantika’s ship, so clearly you don’t relish hurting people with fire, even if it’s sometimes necessary.”

As she speaks, Jester idly plays with Caleb’s fingers. Caleb’s gaze is glued to their entwined fingers and he relishes the softness of her skin against the callouses of his own. “Besides,” She continues, “This stupid Trent guy messed your head up. I don’t think you would have ever done what you did if he hadn’t messed up your memories.”

“You don’t understand Jester,” Caleb snaps, hand clenching around hers, “I wanted to do it;I wanted to kill them. I still feel a twinge of hatred when I hear people speak against the Empire. And it’s been years. Even if the false memories are gone, I still have a part of him in my head.”

“Don’t you think,” she asks softly, after several long seconds of silence, “That if he could mess with your memories, he could mess with your feelings too? Maybe he made you want to do it? You said you broke when you heard them scream; maybe he toyed with your heart too but your love for your family finally was strong enough to break that part of his hold on you?”

Caleb goes still. He doesn’t quite think that’s true, but he also can’t be certain that it isn’t.

“I don’t know,” he admits hesitantly. His memory of that night is a little hazy, the instance full of smoke and screams that drown out everything else.

“And even if he didn’t mess with your heart, you still feel guilty now,” she continues, “It doesn’t change that what you did was really bad- like, really bad- but I don’t know. I don’t think you are entirely to blame for what happened. I think Trent is as much to blame for it. And I think you are as much a victim of his as your parents are of what you did.”

Caleb flinches. Reactively denies, “I’m not-“

“It’s been years and the sight of him caused you to go all weird and spacey and quiet. You’re clearly terrified of him- and he is kinda creepy,” she says, making a face that, despite the graveness of the situation causes Caleb to smile. “Like, I don’t know. You did something really awful but it wasn’t really you who did it, not really, and besides you clearly feel bad about it. Like, I’m mad about it but I’m not mad at you. I’m more mad at this Trent guy for hurting you and making you want to do it.”

Caleb balks. “I do not understand how you do not hate me,” He whispers, catching her fingers in his other hand and lightly running his thumb over them, feeling the smoothness of her skin, the ridges where her knuckles meet. He fiddles with the ring she’d used as a fake wedding ring; a ruby that is far too ostentatious for the likes of the Mighty Nein, but perfectly suited for her nonetheless.

“Do you want me to hate you, Caleb?”

“No,” he confesses after a breath, and it’s the easiest question she’s asked all night. “No I do not want you to hate me, even if it is what I deserve.”

“I don’t think you deserve to be hated,” Jester whispers, taking their joined hands and lifting them to her chest. She shifts so she’s facing Caleb, legs curled under her, her skirt spilling over the edge of then bed. “I think you deserve to be happy.”

“That is where we disagree,” Caleb sighs, though he doesn’t fight her grip.

“Well, then,” she decides softly, “The next time your brain tells you that you’re a shitty person who doesn’t deserve nice things and is really stinky, you come to me. I’ll talk to you until you can’t hear those bad thoughts anymore.”

Something in him stirs that that. His heart lurches in his chest at her offer and before he can pull himself together he lets out a sob, unintended and uncontrollable, and falls forward into Jester’s embrace, allowing himself to be cradled and held like he hasn’t been in years. “Thank you,” he whispers as he clings to her, and for the first time since he regained his memories he doesn’t question the kindness, doesn’t tell himself it’s undeserved. He simply accepts it for what it is and relishes it.

She holds him in silence for a while, one hand rubbing his back as he lets out years worth of pent up emotion. After a while he calms, and slowly sits back, a mixed laugh-sob escaping him as Jester reaches up to help wipe away the last remaining tears. He hand slips lower then, and comes to rest over his heart.

“I wish I could mend this,” she whispers gently, wistfully, “I wish I was strong enough to just whisper a few words and your heart wouldn’t be broken anymore. I don’t like seeing it in so many pieces.”

Caleb trembles.

“I think I am too badly broken to be fixed,” he whispers, “But I am grateful that you would be willing to try.”

Jester doesn’t respond, and they sit together, Caleb curling up against Jester once more. He can hear her heart beating in a solid, steady tempo that eventually lulls him into a state of easy rest. After some time, Jester shifts, and Caleb feels a soft pressing of lips against his temple. A moment passes, and then he feels himself being moved, and feels another feather-soft kiss against his cheek.

“Wh-What are you doing?” He asks, but he makes no move to pull away.

“I’m casting a very special cantrip,” Jester whispers just as softly, but she’s as serious as can be. “It’s for sad wizards who need blue tieflings to cheer them up.”

Caleb smiles at that despite himself, and warmth swells in his heart, but for once it doesn’t remind him of uncontrollable flames. Instead it’s warm like the rays of the sun breaking through a storm-clouded sky, and for the first time in a long time he feels as if he can see through the haze and into a future that isn’t quite so bleak.

“I do not know why everyone insists on believing the best in me,” he admits, “But I suppose I am grateful you do not hate me.”

“I could never hate you, Caleb,” she whispers as she tilts his head up and presses a kiss to his nose. “There. The cantrip is complete. It renders the target the inability to be sad for one hour. It can be reapplied as often as needed.”

Caleb laughs at that, a soft, genuine laugh, and pulls this memory to the forefront of his mind, readying it so the next time Trent’s words try to press their way into his mind, this moment with Jester will blind him to everything else.

They fall asleep curled together, and Caleb only wakes after a frantic message from Nott stirs him.

 _Caleb where are you are you okay youcanreplytothismessage!_

“I am fine Schatz,” Caleb replies in a whisper, careful not to disturb the tiefling that has somehow managed to worm her way downward to rest her head on his shoulder. A small, endearing feeling surges through him as he finishes his reply to his friend, “I became unwell and Jester brought me back to her room. We are resting.”

 _Oh. I hope you are okay. Do you need anything? Youcanreplytothismessage!_

“No thank you; I am fine now. Jester took care of me.” He presses her closer to him, and relishes the soft sigh that escapes the young woman’s lips. “She really is an excellent cleric.”


	2. Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who commented on the first chapter. I’m really bad about replying individually, and there are only so many ways to say ‘thank you’ but believe me when I say your comments and kudos and bookmarks absolutely make my day. So thank you very much. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy part two. Again, this was started prior to episodes 44 + 45 so there are no references to Events that happened in those episodes.

**Mending**

_Part Two_

 

 

Several weeks later the Mighty Nein find themselves on the road again, in another tavern that has some ridiculous name in another town whose name they can’t be bothered to remember. They’re only here for two days to rest and restock before they’re off again, but the weather has been unpleasant during their trip and when they all stagger into the inn, they are exhausted, sore, and a little irritable.

Sluggishly they order food and drink, and they bunker down with varying grunts and groans as they wait for their meal. They’re practically all slumped over the table and each other, and once their meal comes they are so tired they barely have the energy to enjoy it.

Once their meal is finished and the warmth of the ale and the fireplace of the inn has warmed them, their usual cheer begins to creep back to the surface. Caleb curls up in one of the seats near the fire to read his newest book that he picked up while they were in Zedash while Nott curls up at the foot of the chair, already half asleep.

Caleb is admittedly sleepy too, and the comfortable chair and warmth of the hearth makes his eyes heavy, but the story is too compelling to put down. He’s enraptured by the tale, smutty but with an interesting plot and enjoyable characters, and he wants to know what happens next more than he wants to sleep.

He also promised to let Jester borrow it when he’s done, and if he wants to get it to her sooner rather than later just so he can see her eyes light up in excitement, well, that’s just another secret to add to his expansive list.

As the evening goes on Caleb eventually looks up from the book and notices that the others have spread out as well, now that they are more awake and warm. Beau is off flirting with the barmaid while Caduceus and Yasha are conversing idly about their journey. Nott is in the corner cleaning her crossbow. Fjord and Jester are... nowhere to be found.

He glances over to where Beau has just rejoined the table, her advances apparently spurned. He moves from his seat, back popping as he stands slowly and joins her at the table. She glances at Caleb and gives him a weird look at his expression of concern. He clears his throat softly.

“Where are-“

“They’re outside. _Talking,”_ Beau says in a pointed tone, and she looks both serious and worried, though she covers it quickly with a cough of her own before reaching over to grab Caduceus’ still full tankard with a nod and begins to drink. Caduceus smiles at Beau then invites Caleb to join their conversation. He does so gratefully, but his contribution is half-hearted at best. He keeps glancing toward the door, and his mind wanders to the scenario playing out outside.

He hopes Jester and Fjord are finally happy, but the moment that image flashes in his mind, he feels a sharp, distantly familiar pang in his chest. His mind recalls the warmth of Jester’s body against his as she held him that night in Zedash; the softness of her lips on his cheek. How kind and understanding she’d been.How in the days and weeks since she’s given him smiles and gentle touches and- when no one is looking- quick kisses to his temple, telling him with a laugh that it’s a weaker version of her cantrip, but should still get the job done. She’s pointed out pretty things on the road and has joined him on his watches more often than not, talking to him about Nicodranis and her mother and the Traveler.

Caleb is certain he has smiled more in these few weeks than he has since before he left for the academy.

He looks to the door again and resists releasing a sigh. Fjord is a lucky man, indeed, to have been granted the gift of Jester’s heart.

An hour passes and the others decide to head to bed. Caleb declines Nott’s offer to move upstairs, claiming sheepishly that he’d like to read a little longer before retiring. Nott hesitates but makes her way upstairs anyway. Ever since his supposed illness- one he hasn’t told her the truth about- she’s been more fretful around him, more insistent that he eat and sleep and care for himself. If she’s noticed Jester fretting over him too, she’s remained blessedly silent on the matter.

Once they are gone Caleb moves his chair so that he can face the front door of the tavern, waiting. He’s not as comfortable now as he was in the armchair, but it helps to keep him awake as he waits. He tells himself he just wants to make sure they return safely, but he knows he really just wants the proof that Jester is happy on Fjord’s arm. He doesn’t allow himself to dwell on the fact that his heart is nearly broken at the prospect of such a sight.

No amount of special cantrips will be able to fix him now, he thinks idly as he summons the memory of her holding him close and pressing her lips to his nose. Despite the sorrow he feels, he smiles.

Even when she’s directly the cause of his heartbreak, Jester still has the power to make him smile.

After another twenty minutes of Caleb staring at the same page, more invested in the moments he’s shared with Jester than whether or not the characters in his book will make it past all odds to be together, the door to the inn opens and Jester and Fjord enter. They’re arm in arm, attractive together as a proper couple should be, but Caleb notices that there’s a distinct sadness to both of them, a type of resignation that seems fresh and tender. Jester looks up and sees Caleb, whose eyes instantly dart back down to his book, and he can hear a muffled, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Fjord. Good night.”

An equally soft reply from Fjord follows and Caleb listens as the half-orc’s steps grow further and further away as he makes a hasty retreat. A chair scrapes the floor and Caleb looks up from the page to see Jester sitting in the seat across from him, chin resting in her hands as she stares down at the table.

Glancing around, Caleb sees they are the only two left downstairs, and the scruff of his own chair shifting slightly is nearly deafening to him in the otherwise silent tavern.

She’s quiet, and just like last time he grows concerned at the lack of her bubbly presence.

“Jester-“

A small sniffle interrupts him, and he blinks in alarm as he sees a tear slide off her nose and hit the wood of the table below. He instantly understands what’s occurred and he feels a rage ignite beneath his skin.

_I ought to kill him for hurting her like this._

He smothers out that thought as quickly as it sparked to life and instead does what he knows she would want: he closes his book, moves to the chair next to her, and wraps an arm around her. He feels awkward, not used to initiating touch like this, but Jester curls into him willingly anyway, and he feels his heart speed up for a moment as her warmth and the scent of honeysuckle once again overwhelms him.

“Do you want to talk about it?” His hand is idly rubbing her arm in what he hopes is a comforting manner. She’s done this for him a couple times and thinks maybe it’s the right course of action.

She wraps her arms around his waist, her grip nearly vice-like but comforting. She scoots closer as best she can and takes a shuddering breath.

“I talked to Fjord,” she whispers. Caleb blinks, surprised. He’d assumed it would be the other way around, judging by her current state.

“Beau mentioned you were talking.”

She sniffles again and shifts even closer to Caleb. It’s terribly awkward now and so he slowly extracts himself from her and pulls her up. Hand in hand, he leads her over to the large armchair near the fire. He plops down and gently pulls her down to join him on seat. It’s just big enough to accommodate them both and so Jester curls up against him, more comfortably this time, her tail and legs draped across his thighs.

He’s wrapped up in her, and between her warmth and the dying heat of the fire in the hearth he feels utterly content, watching as she idly plays with a pulled thread on his scarf. Eventually she sighs.

“I told him that I really like him as like a friend, but the past few months I haven’t been really sure how I actually feel beyond that and that I talked to you and Nott and the Traveler about feeling confused. And those talks helped but lately I feel like, even though I care about Fjord a whole lot, my heart is pulling me in another direction. And I really want to follow it and see where it goes because I think it will be really, really good. So I told him that I am still his best friend and I will always care about him and will always love him like I love all of our friends, but that I wasn’t going to keep pushing for something that he didn’t want or end up leading him on if he did want it but I didn’t, you know?”

Her heart is pulling her somewhere else? Caleb hates himself for it, but he can’t help but feel, for conceivably the first time in over a decade, a small flicker of hope. His hold on her tightens cautiously.

“And what did Fjord say?”

Jester sighs dramatically as her hands move from the picked thread on his scarf to lightly trail her fingers over the wrappings around his arms. She plays with them almost without thought, and the feather-light touches tickle his skin and Caleb feels the chill of goose flesh spread over his arms even as the warmth of affection swells and crashes over his heart.

“He said that he understood and he is sorry that he wasn’t ready when I was and that maybe someday we will be ready at the same time - but I don’t think that will happen, but it was nice to hear you know? And then he said that he hopes that whatever I do makes me happy and he just wants the best for me even if it isn’t him.”

“Oh,” Caleb breathes. This is not exactly what he’d expected. He’d known she was having doubts over her feelings; their talk in Darktow several months back had ensured him of that but he hadn’t ever thought she would back down from pursuing Fjord; not of her own volition. And not with such care and grace.

Jester keeps managing to surprise him.

“Yeah,” she sighs with a small, sad laugh. “I’m really sad about it; but mostly because I don’t like that I made him sad. I don’t feel sad about what my heart wants because my heart just wants me to be happy, so that’s okay, but you should have seen his face, Caleb!” She looks up at him, eyes wide with alarm. “He was frowning and he looked really upset even though he was trying really hard to hide it. I just feel so awful about it.”

“As you said, you cannot help who your heart longs for,” Caleb says softly. “But Fjord will be alright, in time. He’s strong and a good man.”

“I know,” she whispers, her hands coming to rest on his arm, still. “But I still hurt him and that makes me sad. I don’t like making people sad, Caleb. I just want everyone to be happy.”

“It is hard to be anything but happy when you are around,” Caleb whispers, and he moves one hand from around her waist to brush gently up and down her forearm. He feels Jester shiver at the touch and can’t help but hope that is a positive sign. Her touches always elicit a similar response from him, and so he thinks maybe he’s doing something right for once. “You are very good at cheering us all up.”

He watches as her eyes fill with tears. “I did a really bad job tonight,” she sniffs.

He hesitates a moment, then lifts his hand further to catch tears on his fingertips. “If it helps,” he whispers, “You’ve done an excellent job with me.”

Despite the tears, she smiles. “Good. I don’t like seeing you sad all the time.”

“And I don’t like seeing you sad either,” he replies. Then in an instant, like a match being struck, a wild idea hits him. Without allowing himself to think about it, without allowing himself a moment to consider whether or not he deserves it or if he should do it, he shifts, moving to cup Jester’s face in his hand and tilting her chin up so she meets his gaze. “So I am going to try a very special cantrip I learned recently from a brilliant cleric,” he whispers and he feels young again; mischievous and excited and... _happy. “_ It’s supposed to render its target incapable of being sad for one hour.”

Light finds it’s way to Jester’s eyes and her mouth spreads wide in a grin. “I didn’t know you knew that spell!”

Boldly, Caleb presses his lips to her forehead, a mimicry of what she’d done to him weeks ago. “I’ve been studying,” he whispers as he moves his lips to her cheek, heart racing and blood pounding in his ears. “And I’ve created a version of the cantrip that is specific for beautiful blue tieflings only.”

Jester giggles and eagerly turns her head to allow him to kiss the other cheek. “I think it’s starting to work,” she whispers as his lips press against her.

“Good.”

“But I don’t think it’s _quiiiiite_ enough.”

Caleb frowns. Begins to pull away, afraid perhaps he’s misread the situation. Afraid this doesn’t mean to her what it means to him. Afraid he’s held out the pieces of his heart only for them to slip between their grasps. Jester seems to sense his uncertainty and presses her hand to the one he still has resting on her cheek. “Can we try a more powerful version of the cantrip?”

Caleb looks at her questioningly. “How do you mean?”

Hesitantly, Jester inches forward, and lets her lips lightly brush over Caleb’s. He gasps at the contact, eyes wide as Jester pulls away.

“Jester-“

“I was so excited when I walked in and saw you sitting there,” she admits, pressing her forehead to his. “Were you waiting for me? Please say you were, Caleb.”

“I was,” he breathes, and her laugh is a relieved sound. “I wanted to make sure you were alright.”

“Is that all?” She leans back and gives him an eyebrow wiggle and despite the intensity and seriousness of the situation, Caleb smiles and rolls his eyes.

“I wanted to see you happy. With him. I wanted confirmation that I was foolish for getting my hopes up. That I was mad for thinking you could ever look at me and-“ he chokes on his words, and looks away.

“Look at you and what, Caleb?”

He doesn’t answer for a long time. He feels Jester shift impatiently against him and relents. He can’t get up anyway; she’s much stronger than him. Not that he wants to go anywhere.

“And think I was worthy of your affection.”

“Oh, Caleb,” Jester says sorrowfully, “I don’t think it’s a matter of who deserves what. I think it just is. Besides,” she continues, “I was afraid you would think I was too silly to care for. I know I’m a lot to deal with sometimes.”

“Then I suppose we are both wrong,” he says softly, “You care for me despite all the reasons why you shouldn’t and I care for you because there are so many reasons why I should.”

She beams at that, and her arms wrap around his neck as she hugs him tightly. They stay embraced for some time, Caleb’s arms wrapped around her while her fingers play with the ends of his hair. Eventually she shifts and sits back, but her hand remains at the nape of his neck, and never has a sensation been so comforting, so grounding.

“You called me beautiful,” she says, wiggling her eyebrows at him playfully and he feels his cheeks burn. “Did you really mean that, Caleb?”

“Of course I did,” he replies. “I would not have said so otherwise.”

She giggles again and ducks her head to his chest, and Caleb has to tilt his chin upward to keep from being smacked by her horns.

“I think your cantrip worked,” she whispers sweetly after a moment. “I don’t think I’m sad anymore.”

Caleb lets a hand move up to stroke her hair, and he can hardly believe that he might actually feel the same. That he can feel something other than worthlessness and despair. That despite the fact that he still has plans and goals to achieve, he now has someone that he can see a future with, when it’s all said and done. For so long his gaze has been locked on the consuming flames of the past; now he feels himself glancing over his shoulder to see what the future might hold.

“Of course it worked,” he says, “It’s a very powerful cantrip. And I am a very powerful wizard.”

She snuggles against him, silently agreeing. After several minutes of contended silence she pulls back to look at him.

“Actually,” she says, and her gaze is full of mischief and Caleb feels his heart flutter in his chest, that this playful and sweet tiefling sees him as someone worthy her affection.

_It’s not about being worthy,_ his mind recalls Jester’s words. _It just is._

“I might still be a little sad,” and from the grin on her face Caleb knows it’s a bold-faced lie. But he’s not about to call her bluff; not if she’s doing what he knows she’s doing. Jester isn’t even remotely predictable, but he sees through her ruse with ease. In this moment, Caleb thinks, it’s less about predictability and more about a mutual desire.

“Well,” Caleb says, putting on his most serious face- a feat which is surprisingly hard when Jester makes him want to smile- “We can’t have that, now can we?”

Jester shakes her head emphatically, and their lips meet once more. It’s gentle, chaste even, but still sends a thrill through Caleb that reminds him of the first time he felt magic swirl in his veins. He knows he lacks experience, but so does Jester, and it’s all the sweeter for it.

Eventually they break away, but only just so. Their foreheads press together and they breathe against one another, lips barely brushing as they try to catch their breath.

“We should do this every day,” Jester whispers, and to hear her so breathless, to see her lips swollen and her cheeks flushed - all because of him - sends another, distinctly different sensation through him, and he has to bite back a groan.

_In time_ , he tells himself.

“Oh?”

She nods. “Maybe if we begin and end each day with our special cantrip, we’ll be able to fight off our sadness until it’s gone for good.”

Caleb’s heart wrenches at that. He’s not certain his sorrow will ever be truly gone for good. He’s not even sure he’d recognize himself without his despair and misery. But for Jester, he thinks, perhaps it’s worth a shot.

“ _I wish I could mend this,” she’d said of his heart that night several weeks ago._

_“You did,” he hopes to tell her someday._

For now, though, he simply says: “I think that is the best idea you’ve ever had.” 

Jester grins, and kisses him again.


End file.
